Mr. Burbong. Poem by Monarchist Oleg

His baldness a mark of experience
His silence a value for observation
His slow speech a style of interrogation
Seated by him in the booth,
can't help wondering
what he knows not
what he owes a lot
who he values more
His gaze sticky yet assuring
His touch leathery yet comforting
His frame feeble yet stable
I can't demystify his air
Mr Burbong' his bag tag says
Lady, I gather queries you bear
Yet to now non reach my ear
Stall no more now, stale the fear
Truth to self, more than honesty to others